


See You Soon

by porcelainanimals



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainanimals/pseuds/porcelainanimals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the year 2013 and everything is different. There’s something about that blond in the hipster glasses that really gets at him, but Jean’s not sure what. Reincarnation story fill for SnK kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. whispering goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! After some feedback, I've decided to move this story over to AO3. This is a fill for a prompt on the SnK kink meme that requested Jean and Armin falling in love in a new life.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr as dates-at-the-zoo!

_Armin Arlert, killed in action, August 07, 860._

The sounds of battle fade. The world fades. Jean screams as he forgets everything and makes a beeline for the crumpled body on the ground. He crash lands, tumbling and ripping a splendid hole in his cloak, gets dirt and leaves on everything, scrapes his palms, but it doesn’t matter. He holds onto that pale, bloody hand as hard as he can and nothing, not even the titans, can make him let go. He can practically feel the ground vibrating.

"H-hey, hey buddy, hold on. I’m going to get you back," he whispers hoarsely, burying his face into once-golden locks that are now matted in crimson and mud. He’s still warm. "Come on, Armin. Stay with me. Please. Baby, please. Armin. Armin."

His voice breaks and he can’t do this any more. He gives up on trying to hold back the tears and they fall unchecked on forest green and wings of freedom. Armin isn’t moving. Why won’t he move? Doesn’t he understand that it’s dangerous here? The titans are coming. He can see the flare ahead, the one that signals them to move forward. They have orders to follow.

"Jean!" A voice is shouting his name, but he doesn’t recognize it. He shakes Armin’s shoulder gently. His eyes are closed, like he’s sleeping, and Jean ignores the way his leg is splayed out at an unnatural angle.

"This isn’t a good place to sleep, you know." His teeth are chattering. He can’t breathe. It feels like there’s something clawing at him from the inside, tearing him apart. "Armin, we promised, remember? We’re going beyond the walls. We’re going to see the ocean. We’re going to be together. Forever. We’re going to have our own house, two cats and a dog."

Somebody is pulling at his arm insistently and he can barely feel it. Why won’t they leave him alone? He grips the body before him a little tighter, shakes a little harder, and all of a sudden, he’s screaming his name and nothing is okay. He doesn’t remember how he gets back to the base, blood that’s not his own staining his clothes. He doesn’t remember the way Christa and Sasha had fussed over him and helped him out of his gear, or the way Corporal Levi had ignored the way he tracked mud through the halls. He only remembers that it rained, it poured, and he stood outside trying to drown himself.

In the darkness of the barracks, when everyone’s trying to sleep, Jean lies awake and battles the lure of sleep and the nightmares that come with it. He can almost feel the familiar warmth of a body curled next to him, the fingers that had intertwined with his. He can hear Reiner snoring softly from the next bunk over and Connie is mumbling to himself, and Armin is whispering sweet nothings in his ears. If he cries at night, the others don’t say anything about it.

_Jean Kirstein, killed in action, December 19, 861._

Snow falls silently and he trudges through the cold, following the hooded figures in front of him that he can barely make out in the darkness. The sun doesn’t rise, not yet, and he prays for warmth. He clutches at his breast pocket, feels the slight stiffness of a folded piece of paper filled with scribbled I love yous that have almost faded from age, and he keeps moving.

Over a year ago, they had huddled together under a thick blanket, legs tangled, and kissed each other senseless until Eren, stupid Eren, had come in and punched him in the face for defiling his little brother. Armin had cried and apologized over and over again, but it was okay because he was kissing him again and everything was perfect. The blond had run his fingers through his hair, sent shivers up his spine, and whispered his name against his lips.

A high pitched roar shakes him out of his thoughts and suddenly, there’s titans everywhere. The land before him is flat and there aren’t any trees or buildings, and he wonders briefly if he’s going to die before the commander is barking orders and he obeys because after all, he’s a soldier. He kills two, assists one, and then the sky goes completely dark. Somebody is screaming, but he doesn’t know who, just knows that suddenly everything hurts and he can’t move. Someone grabs him around the waist, drags him through the snow, and he knows he’s going to die.

"Jean, Jean! Look at me! Jean!"

He opens his eyes slowly, reluctantly, and Armin is looking down at him. He looks like an angel.

"Armin," he breathes and he wants nothing more than to touch him, to pull him closer, but his hands won’t listen to him. His whole body won’t move. Armin is shaking his head for some reason, and his vision is a little blurry, but he thinks the other is crying.

"Why are you crying?" He croaks, attempting one of his smiles that always made Armin laugh, and he can’t help but laugh a little himself, but it hurts like hell. He can’t stop coughing, his head is spinning, and going to sleep sounds like a great idea, but Armin won’t let him. "Leave me alone, Armin, I’m tired. Let me sleep."

He hasn’t slept in so long. It feels so long since he let his eyes close, because when he sleeps, he sees Armin lying broken and bruised on the ground, staring up at him with unseeing blue eyes and his fingers are cold. He inhales deeply. The winter air is bitter and biting, but he doesn’t think he minds so much, because Armin is holding him, and he’s warm.


	2. i think i might know you

_August 07, 2013_

It's hot. It's the type of hot that sticks and smothers, the kind that hangs heavy and damp in the air, and even the shade is stifling. Jean is fanning himself frantically with his latest essay prompt when he finally pushes his way into the first store he sees, which happens to be a small bakery off of 22nd and Northbridge. It's both blissfully air conditioned and empty, save for the blond in the hipster glasses reading what looks like a dictionary in the corner over a scone and an iced tea. He stumbles his way to the register, browses through the menu quickly, and orders an iced chai with extra ice if you please and a poppy seed muffin. The blond looks up at him when he sits down, scraping his chair a little too loudly, and he feels his heart stop. Time stops.

Or rather, he freezes and the blond just laughs quietly to himself as pink creeps up on Jean's cheeks. When the other finally looks away, he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and takes a big sip of iced goodness to calm himself down before staring intently at his muffin. He  _knows_  that blond. He doesn't know where or how, but he  _knows_  that he knows him. He just knows. His heart is racing and he doesn't know why, because this is silly. It's just a boy who twirls his hair as he reads and licks his fingers to turn the page. He sighs softly every now and then, the sound sending shivers up his spine, and shifts slightly in his chair. Jean can't help but stare. It's a good thing that dictionary is so interesting.

-

Jean is going crazy. Or at least, that's what Marco insists, but Jean just shakes his best friend by the shoulders.

"Look at me," he insists. "Do I look like I'm making this up? Marco... Please."

Marco squints at the other and sighs, defeated. Jean's face is completely serious and his brow is furrowed in that way that indicates he's been thinking way too hard. His eyes are ringed with dark circles and he knows that Jean has been mulling over this boy more than he has been focusing on the essay that's due on Friday. He doesn't really have the time to listen to his roommate gush over a stranger he saw in a cafe that he swears he knows but can't quite place, but he could use a break anyway. He puts down his pencil and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "Well, have you figured out how you know this guy?"

"I just  _feel_  it, y'know? Like they say in the movies? C'mon man, I always thought it was horseshit but it's for real." Jean is rambling and he doesn't know why or how he's allowed himself to get so wound up by a stranger that he's shared a total of three seconds of eye contact with. There's something about him, but Jean can't quite put his finger on it. It's that word at the tip of his tongue that his brain just can't come up with and it's driving him positively nuts. Let's be real here - Jean is an attractive man, if he can say so himself. He's certainly had his share of admirers, but nobody's been able to hold his attention nearly as long as this mystery blond. Shortly put, he's captivated.

"Does he go to our school? Do you guys share classes? Walk by each other on the way to the train? Go to the same supermarket?" Marco is trying his best to be helpful, but Jean is stuck. After all, cute blond with glasses who reads dictionaries isn't really much to go on. He wants to help, honestly, he does, but Jean has been pestering him constantly since last Thursday and he's not going to pass if he doesn't get a B or better on this next paper.

"I dunno, man. I dunno," Jean answers quietly, wistfully, almost longingly as he lets go and stares past him at the wall. Marco sighs again and gives him a reassuring smile and a pat on the back.

"Come on. This essay isn't going to write itself. After we've turned it in, we can talk about how we're going to find your mystery boy. We'll turn the whole city upside down if we have to."

"Marco," Jean breathes thankfully, a silly grin lighting up his face. "You're the best."

-

"Just so you know, I'm only here on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and sometimes in the evenings on Wednesdays," a voice gently teases and Jean jerks up to see the blond taking a seat at his table, their knees bumping slightly underneath. He swallows nervously. Is he that easy to read? As if answering his silent question, the other just grins in a way that makes him flutter on the inside. "The girl at the counter told me you've been here every day."

"I haven't!" Jean splutters indignantly. "Just Friday, Saturday... Sunday... And maybe for a little bit on Monday too."

It's Tuesday, and his companion just laughs as he pulls out textbooks and lab manuals one by one as if he hadn't just invited himself to sit with a stranger. "My name's Armin, by the way."

_I know._

"'m Jean," he mumbles, his cheeks just the faintest hint of pink. "It's... Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Armin replies with a bright smile and Jean wills his heart to calm down. He can't help the goofy grin that spreads across his face and before he knows it, they're discussing politics and TV shows, favourite foods and childhood memories like they've known each other their whole lives. The sun sets outside and Jean is startled to learn that it's nearly 8. As Armin packs his things and waves a goodbye, he tosses a piece of paper folded into a boat at a stunned brunette and mouths 'call me' as he disappears through the door.

-

"His name is  _Armin_."

He's gushing. Marco is a good friend, but he really doesn't want to hear about how the blond's favourite movie is Inception for the fifth time in so many hours. Jean's eyes are glazed over, but he takes one look at his freckled friend's exasperated expression and gives a sheepish laugh. "S-sorry. I guess I just got a little over-excited there."

Marco snorts and flops back on the sofa, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. Following the encounter at the cafe, his roommate had run the six plus blocks and three flights of stairs home ("I was too pumped to take the bus!") and attacked him as soon as he was through the door, positively glowing. "I take it you got his number?"

Perhaps that was the wrong question. Jean practically oozes hearts, his eyes sparkling as he pulls out a slightly crumpled paper boat. He unfolds it gingerly, sighing happily. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"So why don't you call him up and ask him to have dinner with you?"

"No!" Jean squawks, launching himself at the other and grabbing his shirt. "No, no, absolutely not!"

"Why not?" Marco manages, in between trying to kick off the brunette while trying not to break anything in the vicinity and staying on the couch. "Come on, you're mad over this guy. You've done this before."

Jean lands with a loud thunk on the floor and prays his downstairs neighbors won't call the landlord with another noise complaint. He groans and covers his eyes with his arm. "I can't. Armin's different."

His voice is tender. He doesn't know why yet, but there's something that really gets him, that really tugs at him. It hasn't even been a week since their first meeting, hours since their first conversation, but he can't forget that playful laugh, that sweet smile. Yet somehow, he feels like he's forgetting something really important. Is he? Did he miss something? A dropped hint too subtle for his dense personality? He rolls onto his stomach and tiredly punches the sofa, because Marco's too far away.

"At least call. Or text. He's expecting you to do something with that number, you know?" Marco is ever-suffering and it's with much effort that he convinces Jean to wait until tomorrow morning ("For heaven's sake Jean, it's 2 in the morning! Do you really think he's going to pick up now?! Take a shower first. You  _reek_.") to call. He helps him draft out a script, then finally brushes his teeth and falls into bed. He can hear Jean pacing from the next room over and sighs. He's a lost cause.


	3. it's amazing how fast we fall

The dreams start when he's 10. He dreams of a world within walls that one day come crashing down.

-

The next morning, Jean works up the courage to text Armin "good morning" and he can't breathe until his phone chimes an incoming message. He stops in the middle of pacing back and forth through the living room and inhales deeply to calm his nerves.  
 _  
Hey! Sorry, I was in class. :) Are you free today?_

He's in a good mood all day.

-

"Are you sure this guy is alright? He's not a total creeper or anything? I mean, he  _did_  stake out the cafe..."

"Eren, relax, will you? He's perfectly normal, if just a little awkward and shy. Honestly, I think it's sweet," the blond replies promptly, pushing his friend out of the way so he can exit the lecture hall. "I'm not the person I used to be. You don't need to protect me anymore."

Eren looks like a kicked puppy and Armin feels a twinge of guilt. He hadn't meant for it to sound so harsh, so he gives him an apologetic smile and touches his hand lightly. "Seriously. I'm fine."

"Armin..." The brunette looks terribly conflicted and Armin just laughs. "Fine. But if he even starts to do anything weird at all, you tell me immediately, ok? And then I'll go kick his ass for you."

"I promise!" And with that, he's gone, running down the stairs because he promised Jean he'd meet him in fifteen minutes, pausing only to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.

-

They meet up for lunch at some hippie burrito bar the blond recommends and he tells Armin to order for him because what on earth is a tornado tostada? The blond laughs and Jean pays for both of their meals, the tips of his ears red as he guides them to an empty booth in the corner. Whatever Armin has ordered for him is delicious.

"How'd you know what I would like?" He can't help himself from asking.

"Lucky guess," the blond replies, smiling as he feeds him a chip. Somehow, it feels a little like déjà vu.

-

Marco flicks another piece of paper at Jean as he catches his friend checking his phone in lecture. Again. Honestly, he's trying to pay attention for once and Jean is awfully distracting with the way he's making those goofy happy faces as he types. "Nobody texts that fast," he hisses quietly, trying to be discreet. Jean looks wounded.

"He's really good about texting back! Fingers like lighteni-hey..You don't think he's igno-" His phone lights up as Armin responds and Jean is positively  _glowing_  as he scrolls through.

"Don't make that face. It's nasty." Marco sighs wearily. He'll have to take extra good notes today because chances are, Jean's are no good. It's another two hours until the end of the day.

-

Armin is busy the next day and Jean's not quite sure what to do.

"You could go to the library," Marco offers helpfully as he makes coffee. "Work on homework. Go grocery shopping."

Jean shoots him a withering glance.

"Seriously Jean," his friend sighs. "It's really not that healthy to get so hung up over some guy you met last week." He knows Jean means well but maybe he's plunging into this without thinking it over enough. Not that he does a lot of thinking to begin with, but this is something that warrants taking a few moments to just stop and consider everything.

"I don't know," he groans, raking his fingers through his hair. "It feels like more, you know? It's sort of like, like that feeling you get when you just know something but it doesn't come to mind straight away. I really..."

He inhales deeply and laces his fingers behind his neck, closing his eyes. He  _knows_  that this is potentially a bad idea. He's throwing himself at a near-stranger, but he can't help it. He still can't shake the feeling he's met the blond somewhere before. It feels like he's forgetting something terribly important and it kills him that he can't figure it out. His voice is a soft whisper when he finally speaks up, still staring adamently at the countertop. "I really, really like him."

-

That night, he dreams he's walking through a burning town and he's all alone. There's a makeshift mask over his face but he can still smell the smoke that stings his eyes. He can't hear anything except for his heart beating loudly and for some inexplicable reason, he's filled with dread. Before him, he can see a large pile and he doesn't know why, but he's running as fast as he can, but a figure propped up against the remnants of a brick wall stops him in his tracks. He's filled with panic. He doesn't want to look but his body's not listening.

"Did you know him?" an impassive voice asks. He opens his mouth to scream because it's -

"Jean!  _Jean!_ "

Someone is shaking him and he wakes with a start, shooting upright in his bed and nearly cracking foreheads with Marco, who's staring down at him, face pale. "You were screaming in your sleep," he says nervously and Jean is breathing heavily. It's Marco. He reaches out a hand to grasp a solid shoulder, then pulls back quickly.

"Sorry," he offers weakly, unable to meet his eyes. "Just a bad nightmare."

Marco is unconvinced but Jean pushes past his friend into the living room and out onto the balcony where he lets the cool night wind calm his head as he presses his palms to his eyelids and wills the images to disappear. He's had this dream before, he realizes, but this is the first time he's seen that face.

Armin picks up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Armin." Jean whispers his name like a prayer, gripping his phone with shaking hands. "Armin."

"Jean? What's wrong?"

"Couldn't sleep," he lies. "Guess I was thinking too much. What are you up to?"

He can hear a muffled yawn and the rustle of papers. "I'm at the library. I've got 30 pages due in a few hours on herbicide use and super weeds. Good news is that I'm almost done."

"Fascinating," Jean drawls and Armin's chuckle is the sweetest thing he's ever heard. He exhales deeply, his next words barely audible. "Gods, I want to see you so badly right now."

There's a pause on the other side, then his voice, soft, says, "That can be arranged."

He quickly memorizes the directions to Armin's lab, promises he'll be there soon, and runs to the shower. He can't show up covered in sweat, after all. Jean finds Armin in the basement, huddled underneath a brightly coloured quilt, his fingers typing furiously and his wide glasses slipping off the tip of his nose. Before he can stop himself, he pushes them up for the blond, who looks up, startled, before breaking out into a wide grin.

"Jean. And coffee! Is that for me?" Armin makes a grab at the bag Jean's dangling in front of him, growling playfully when he pulls it away. The brunette finally relents after Armin uses his killer puppy eyes on him, handing him a cup of coffee as well.

"Yeah. Just some donuts I picked up. Didn't know if you were hungry or not."

"I'm starving," he says around a mouthful of sweet dough, already with chocolate frosting on his cheeks. "Haven't eaten since lunch."

The clock now reads 3:46. Jean frowns as he swipes at the other's cheeks with a napkin. "Maybe I should've brought something else. You want me to get anything?"

Armin shakes his head as he hits save and stretches triumphantly. "No, no, I'm good. Just finished! Thanks though."

Jean takes a seat at the bench next to him, resting his head on a stack of textbooks Armin has out and looking up at him. The blond smiles, pulling off a bit of donut and holding it out. "You ok?"

"I'm good now that I'm here," he says before there's a pause and they both break into laughter. "Oh man, that was really cheesy. I am so sorry."

"It's ok," Armin chortles, pushing the donut into Jean's mouth before wiping his fingers on a napkin. He scoops up his bag and his smile is the most dazzling thing he's ever seen. "Since we're being sappy and all, want to watch the sun rise over the waterfront?"

Jean drives according to Armin's directions and they arrive just as the sky is lighting up. They climb up onto the hood of his car and lean back against the window shield. It's a little chilly by the water, so the blond pulls out his quilt and throws it over the two of them, scooting closer so that their shoulders bump. Armin holds his hand underneath the quilt and he feels like he's getting to know him all over again as he tells him about his favourite bands, the novel he just finished, his internship at the crime lab. He has a dog at home, a Sheltie, and he wants to go to Italy someday. Jean can't resist shifting so he can lean his head against his shoulder, nuzzling his neck just slightly. Armin smells a little like lemons, mint and chocolate donut. It feels familiar. It feels right.

"Stop, that tickles!" Armin giggles as short hair brushes against the underside of his chin and Jean does it again just to hear him laugh, pulling him a little closer by their entwined hands. "Jean, haha, I'm serious! Don't do that! I'm all gross and sweaty and haven't showered since yesterday morning..."

When he pauses, Jean opens his mouth to speak but finds he doesn't have the words. He's not even watching the sunrise anymore. He reaches out and gently cups Armin's cheek in his hand, brushes his fingers over soft, smooth skin, heart racing as he leans in forward and Armin's eyes flutter shut. He's so close he can feel the other's breath against his lips and he licks them nervously before Armin's phone goes off at the worst possible moment, nearly giving him a heart attack. They both jump and the blond is spilling out apologies as fast as they'll come, reaching into his pocket to turn off the alarm he's set for himself.

"Sorry," he whispers as he pulls away, the disappointment evident in his voice. "I've got a paper to turn in."

Jean just stares at him, then coughs awkwardly to clear his throat. "Yeah. I-I'll drop you off at school?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Armin smiles. With one last longing look, he lets go of their hands, folds up the quilt, and gets back into the car. Jean follows after a beat. They drive in silence and Armin gets off at the crosswalk, promising to call later. Jean stays for a moment, watching him go before he lets his head hit the steering wheel, ignoring the angry honks from behind. When he closes his eyes, all he can see are blue eyes. He's falling way too fast.


	4. we could be together

Armin is late.

Jean is waiting impatiently on a rickety bench outside the boys' cabin, anxiously picking at stray splinters. Today is the day. He's spent the last two weeks agonizing over how he's going to confess, picking out just the right words. Everything is planned out and he knows exactly what he's going to say. He nearly stabs himself when a soft voice murmurs his name and he looks up into eyes the colour of the afternoon sky as his rehearsed lines all disappear from his mind. He panics.

"Armin," he replies shakily and hopes his voice doesn't betray his nerves, patting the seat next to him. The blond smiles and sits, leaning so that their shoulders barely brush and the touch gives him courage. "Hey, Armin..."

He doesn't mean to kiss him, but suddenly he's got his hand fisted in his collar, pulling him up to meet him and their lips are crushed against each other. It's by no means what he imagines his first kiss to be and he's slightly horrified at how he nearly missed, but then Armin is kissing back and everything is perfect. His lips are soft and pliant, parting when he presses his tongue gently against them, his free hand reaching to cup the back of his neck, pressing them together. He can feel a hand on his shoulder and one on his hip, and he can't help thinking this is the way things ought to be. When they finally pull away for air, breathing heavily, he grips thin shoulders tightly, his eyes wide.

"I like you!" He blurts out in a somewhat panicked manner. "I really, really like you!"

"Yeah," Armin replies a little breathlessly. "I gathered as much."

Then, they're laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world and Jean's afraid his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. The blond leans forward, his cheeks dusted pink and his fingers intertwining with his, a wide smile across his face. He's easily the most beautiful thing Jean has ever seen. "Good thing I like you too."

"Yeah. Good thing," he murmurs, a little dazed, pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his nose before letting their lips meet once more. Armin tastes faintly sweet and he smells like pine trees and citrus. He feels like the happiest person alive and his worries seem so far away. For now, at least, he can forget about the bad mess hall food, the crazy commanders, the titans..

Wait, titans?

His alarm clock goes off.

Jean wakes with a start, heart pounding and fingers scrambling at the sheets next to him. It takes a moment to recognize the familiar room with its crooked blinds and tan rug. He sits there for a moment, a hand touching his mouth. It had felt so real. He can still feel Armin's chapped lips pressed with his, small yet strong hands gripping at his shirt, eyelashes fluttering across his cheeks. Groaning, he falls back onto his bed, throwing one of his pillows at the wall in frustration. This whole developing feelings thing is taking a mental toll on him and he's so fed up - with himself, with how confused he is, with how he can't figure anything out. He wonders if he closes his eyes, he'll see Armin again.

-

"Wow, you look awful," Marco remarks over scrambled eggs and slightly burnt toast. The brunette pointedly ignores him, nursing his coffee instead. He takes a long sip, then sighs before settling on munching his breakfast loudly. Marco looks genuinely concerned. "Are you... Having nightmares again?"

Jean shakes his head violently and speaks around a mouthful of food. "I keep dreaming about Armin."

"Oh, so good dreams keeping you up?" Marco grins, wagging his eyebrows in an infuriating manner. His roommate punches him, unapologetic when he makes a noise of pain, his cheeks heated as his mind suddenly entertains glimpses of a pale Armin spread over his bed sheets, of flushed skin and -

"It… I don't know, it seems so real." Jean's voice is hollow, confused. "Like memories, you know? But I know these things have never happened before. Last night, I dreamt I-I kissed him. We were at some sort of camp. I've never taken him camping before."

Marco nods, his expression serious. He's not sure what to say, so he just nudges Jean's foot reassuringly. The other grunts.

"I guess I'll figure it out," he sighs, glancing up at the clock. "I gotta go."

Marco watches as he dumps his dishes in the sink and rushes off, wondering why a camping ground seems so familiar.

-

Jean is desperate to see him again. He can't stop thinking about soft blond hair and sweet whispers. But Armin has more of those crazy papers to turn in for the end of summer session so he's stuck with phone calls to tide him over for a week. They talk almost every night with Jean murmuring encouragements to a sleepy Armin. It's the longest week of his life.

After hanging up and promising to meet the next day after class, he nestles himself among his blankets and quickly falls asleep, dreaming of soft kisses and hushed giggles. He can't remember why, but he knows they should be quiet, knows they have to be quick as he presses a slim figure back towards a dusty shelf illuminated only by the moonlight. The night is cold and the wind nips through his thin clothes, but the body pressed up against his is warm and inviting. He whispers the other's name as he kisses his neck, sucking gently to leave a mark because Jean's just slightly possessive, and Armin growls playfully as he slides icy fingers under his waistband. He can't help the high pitched squeal that escapes his mouth when those fingers wrap around him and -

He wakes up suddenly with soiled sheets and feels like a pervert. How is he going to face him tomorrow?

-

As soon as Armin drops off his last assignment, Jean is outside waiting. The blond slides into the passenger seat with a sweet smile that makes him feel like mush inside but there are also dark circles under his eyes that require his attention.

"You look like you haven't slept in a year."

"Pretty accurate," Armin yawns, leaning back. "I feel like I could sleep until winter break."

"Fall semester hasn't even started," Jean laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Want me to drive you home?"

Armin opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it and smiles wearily, nodding. When they pull up in front of his apartment building, he leans over and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before dashing off, grinning widely. Jean looks as if Christmas has come early.

-

Armin is asleep on his shoulder, a comfortable and nostalgic weight. He gently pries the controller from his hands and lays it off to the side, smiling longingly at the smaller of the two as he stirs.

"Mhmm, did I fall asleep?" He asks, eyes still closed as he nuzzles closer to the brunette, wrapping the comforter around him tightly.

"Right in the middle of the boss battle," Jean teases, leaning down to rest his head against Armin's. The other snorts softly, eyelids fluttering. "Don't worry. I won for us."

"Good."

"You hungry? There's still some pizza."

"Maybe later," Armin yawns, tilting his face upwards so that their foreheads are touching and he smiles and  _they've done this before_.

Before he knows it, he's kissing Armin and nothing's going according to plan - he's planned this! - but it's hard to be upset when soft lips are pressed against his in just the right way. He can feel a hand come up to tentatively cup his cheek and Armin whispers his name like he wants this as badly as Jean does. It's sweet and simple at first but there's this sort of hunger that's laid dormant in him (for years) since they met and the dam breaks. He presses a little harder and Armin is nothing but agreeable, parting his mouth open as one hand reaches up to tangle in dual-coloured hair. He tastes of honey and the vanilla milkshake they shared earlier and something that's distinctly Armin.

Something about this seems familiar, like frantic fumbling in rough sheets and trying to be quiet. Like the scent of hay and stolen kisses in the shadows of the stables, like holding hands late into the night.

He's insatiable, hands wandering up and down his sides, but still hesitant, still nervous because this is Armin and he definitely can't screw things up with him. Armin makes it hard to think straight, hard to breathe, Armin makes his chest tighten and his heart race. Armin is moaning softly as their tongues meet and their bodies press closer, closer.

This feels right. No, this  _is_  right.

Finally, lungs screaming for air, he pulls away reluctantly, panting heavily as he stares into bright blue eyes. He wants this more than he's ever wanted anything before and one hand is tangled in golden silk, one clutching desperately at a blue cotton tee that brings out his eyes.

"You're so perfect," he whispers as he leans down to kiss his neck, sucking gently, relishing the noises he's able to coax from the blond, biting ever so slightly on his pulse point. He knows where to touch, knows all of his sensitive spots. Everything is muscle memory and he isn't even thinking, he's just doing. Armin gasps, back arching, and Jean is trying so hard to control himself but it's getting so hard.

"Jean,  _Jean_ ," Armin shudders as lips graze over his collarbone and nibble. His voice is breathy and needy, each syllable dripping with meaning, his arms wrapped around the other's waist, tugging him closer insistently. "Jean."

The brunette looks up, their noses brushing, and inhales deeply, his fingers shaking a little bit. He hasn't realized how much he's wanted him, how badly he's needed this and he needs a moment to calm himself down. Armin runs his hands through his hair, mumbling sweet nothings and he's feeling dizzy, overwhelmed as they share a gentle kiss.

"Wow," the blond exhales against his lips and he can't help but smile.

"Yeah," he murmurs, kissing him again. They twine their hands together and they fit like puzzle pieces. He closes his eyes, savouring the moment as he softly admits, "Sorry. I-I had it all planned out and everything. I was going to kiss you on the lakeside while the sun sets, not on my couch after playing video games. We'd have a nice dinner, maybe walk around a bit."

Armin laughs and he feels his cheeks colour. "Don't be. That was perfect."

They idle away the hours with the television on in the background, limbs tangled, talking softly. Jean kisses him over and over, sighing his name into his skin. Armin's voice is a lullaby and soon, he finds himself leaning into the crook of his neck, eyelids heavy as he suggests going to sleep. He loans him a tshirt and some basketball shorts and it's endearing how large they are on him, especially when the blond puffs out his cheeks in mock anger. They climb into his twin and it's a little crowded, but Armin fits perfectly and he's out in minutes.

That night, there aren't any nightmares.

 


	5. i've got dreams (and nightmares)

"Hey, I'm home," Marco calls out as he drops his bags on the floor by the entrance, kicking off his shoes before walking into the kitchen. "I'm starving. Camping was great, caught some fish the second day! We didn't have time to cook breakfast before we left - oh. Hello."

The figure looking through the refrigerator is in fact not Jean, but a slim blond wearing nothing more than one of his roommate's oversized band tshirts. His hair is thoroughly disheveled and the collar does nothing to hide the blossoming marks on his pale neck. He nearly blushes but fights the overwhelming urge. "I... Hello?"

At the sound, the blond practically jumps, slamming the fridge closed, looking slightly spooked. He tugs nervously at the hem of the shirt, pulling it further down his thighs and Marco tries his best to look non-threatening. "I take it you're Armin?"

The other is about to reply when Jean sticks his head in the kitchen and spots Marco. He freezes, then grins sheepishly, walking over. "Hey. Uhm, this is Armin. Armin, this is Marco, my roommate."

"Nice to meet you," Armin says as he shyly offers his hand. "Sorry for suddenly showing up in your kitchen like that."

"That's fine," he replies amicably, peering at him curiously. So this is the fabled Armin that his roommate has been drooling over for the better part of a month, but the brunette catches his eyes and quickly pushes the short male in the direction of the shower. As soon as Armin scurries, Marco grabs Jean's arm, pulling him in and whispers teasingly, "Jean, you dog! Is this what you do when I'm not home?"

His eyes widen almost comically and he quickly shushes his friend, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Dude, he'll hear you! And no! No! We didn't do - you know! All we did was neck a little."

"A little?" Marco's eyebrows raise and he's doing his best to hold back his laughter. "Let me tell you something; I could have seen those hickeys from Jupiter."

Jean flushes brilliantly as he pulls out a box of pancake mix and some milk. He mixes furiously as he mutters some choice words for his friend under his breath, cursing when he only ends up making a mess and Marco has to take over. "And maybe I got a little carried away."

Armin appears again, hair slightly damp, this time in jeans and one of Jean's button-ups fastened all the way to his neck with the collar turned up and a rather sullen expression that he directs at Jean. The brunette laughs and walks over to flip it down, seemingly forgetting about his roommate for the moment as he tenderly strokes his cheek and Marco sees the way his eyes brighten. Jean steals a kiss when he thinks the other isn't looking and the shorter male blushes. Breakfast is a quiet affair.

-

It's with great reluctance that he drives Armin home, unwilling to let go of him until the very last second. He knows it's silly, this feeling of unwarranted trepidation, but he can't help feeling so lost without the blond.

"I'll call you?" Armin asks, leaning over to pull Jean in for a deep kiss, curling his fingers into his shirt. He lets his eyes close, reaching up to play with silky hair, gently prodding his tongue into the other's mouth. The soft moans he's making are driving him crazy and the front seat of a car is awfully difficult to maneuver, but then the blond is pulling away with a lazy smile. "I'll see you, Jean."

He exits the car, blowing a kiss as he disappears up the stairs. Jean doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

-

There's only one week left before the fall semester starts and Jean is determined to get his daily dose of Armin before the reports and midterms get between them. As soon as he's finished a late breakfast, he dials up a number he's now learned by memory. "Hey, how about that lakeside dinner?"

Armin giggles on the other line and he can imagine him lying on the ground, a book or two scattered around him. The picture makes him smile. "Am I going to get that romantic kiss now?"

The night is nothing short of perfect, even if he shows up half an hour early and Armin makes him laugh in the middle of a big sip of water. They hold hands under the table and afterward, they take a nice stroll by the water to the French bakery he knows of. The blond coos over the intricately decorated cakes, which Jean finds incredibly endearing, and they buy a bag of cookies to share, munching happily as they walk along the pier. And finally, as the sun sets, he kisses him, and Armin sighs happily, winding one arm lazily around the taller male's neck. It's with great reluctance that he finally breaks off, slowly opening his eyes.

_We said we'd see the ocean together, didn't we?_

-

His senior year starts without much fanfare and he groans as he settles into a routine of bad coffee and early mornings. Thankfully, it's punctuated by visits from Armin, who usually smells like pastries and keeps a bag of caramels on his person at all time. He's chewing on one noisily as he sprawls out on Jean's bed, watching as the other listlessly skims the world's most boring text.

"I can't stand this," Jean finally gives up, leaning back in his chair and swiveling it about so that he can face the source of his distractions. He's rewarded with a quick kiss as Armin climbs into his lap with the grace of an acrobat, holding onto his shoulders for leverage. "Let's take a break."

"You said that three caramels ago," the blond murmurs, swallowing and licking his lips. Jean swallows, eyes trained on Armin's mouth, slightly slick and all he can think is, "You keep track of time in candies eaten?"

"Nothing wrong with that," he pouts, throwing his stash off to the side when Jean tries to sneak one. "Hands off. None for you until you finish."

He growls but shrugs, opting instead to snake his arms around a thin, yet surprisingly sturdy, waist, fingers tugging at belt loops and Armin shivers deliciously. They haven't gotten much further than kissing and some heavy petting, and needless to say, he's getting a little antsy. He experimentally grinds their hips together, delighted in the noises Armin makes, but his victory is short lived.

"You have to study," Armin breathes, pulling away, and Jean feels a caramel being pressed up against his lips. It's sweet, but it's not what he wants. "I'm not the one with a midterm next week."

"You're horrible," he laments, pushing the smaller of the two back onto his mattress and reaching for his notes. "If I fail, it'll be because of you."

"You mean, if you get an A, it'll be because of me," the other corrects, smirking as he rolls himself into Jean's comforter, wiggling slightly. It smells like him and he closes his eyes as he inhales deeply, fingers curled tightly around a corner, and Jean's expression softens as he begins to read.

"Yeah. Something like that."

-

When he falls asleep during a particularly boring lecture, he sees a flash of blue and gold, and feels lips pressed against his ear. If he's still, he can almost make out the words being whispered, agile fingers running through his hair reassuringly.

"We're going to go out there together."

Out? Out where? He wants to ask, but his body isn't listening to him; instead, he just leans further into the touch, eyes closing against a thin shoulder. The sun is warm and he can hear the soft neighing of horses and footsteps in the distance. They should go back soon, but for now, all he cares about is the body in his lap and the exposed skin in his line of vision. He leans forward to nip gently, drawing forth a surprised gasp.

"Don't worry. You think too much. You don't have to always be looking out for me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?" Armin chuckles lightly before shifting to trail kisses down his cheek. He's smiling against his skin as he repeats endearments and vows and tells him stories of fantastical worlds he can only dream of. "We've had much more difficult missions before. This next one is going to take us east, into more densely populated areas."

His eyes narrow and the other laughs again. "Don't give me that look, Jean! I've gone over the plans a thousand times. We're going to be fine. Before you know it, we'll be back behind the walls, taking advantage of your nice commander's room."

"Jean!" A sharp jab to his side is all it takes to wake him up and his eyes fly open to reveal a livid Professor Bossard, a trickle of blood working its way down his chin. He gulps nervously, fighting back a yawn as he grabs a pencil and begins to scribble out everything on the blackboard.

It was a pleasant enough dream, but somehow, he can't shake off the feeling that something is going to go terribly, terribly wrong.

-

This time, it's Armin calling him in the middle of the night and all he can hear are soft, muffled sobs. His heart nearly stops.

"Armin? What's wrong?" He asks frantically, phone clutched tightly as if it's Armin's hand itself. The blond doesn't respond but the sounds of crying taper out slowly, taking a deep breath before replying.

"Jean. I... Oh, it's silly. It's nothing. I just really needed to talk to you suddenly."

"'Nothing' made you cry like that?" All he gets in response is a shaky hiccup and he sighs, running a hand over his face as he leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. It hurts. It really, really hurts. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Y-yes... No. I don't. Can you... Can you come over?"

He doesn't even look at the clock before he's got his keys and his shoes on, flies down the stairs, and throws himself in his car. "I'm on my way," he promises before hanging up and driving to the blond's apartment, breaking a handful of traffic laws in the process. Before he has time to knock, the door opens and a blur comes hurtling at him. He nearly loses his balance, but he catches Armin in his arms and slowly coaxes him back inside, closing the door behind him. The other's face is buried in his sweatshirt and he can feel him trembling.

"Jean," he whimpers, his voice cracking slightly as the brunette leads him to the couch, pulling him into his lap. He says his name over and over again like a chant and Jean replies to each syllable with a kiss, each more frantic than the last, and he can feel fear washing over him, a vice around his heart that squeezes uncomfortably tightly. "Do you ever feel like you've made a promise you shouldn't have? One you thought you were going to keep no matter what, but you mess up?"

A picture plays in his head like a memory, one he shouldn't have, of a familiar figure cloaked in green smiling at him, mouthing the words  _I'll be fine_ , and  _see you soon_ , then a body lying on the ground, broken, bloodied, and cold. He wants to scream.

It's terrifying.

"Don't go," a small voice pleads and he nods. He's not going anywhere. He wants to tell him not to cry, vow that he'll be okay, but he's all choked up, all confused and jumbled inside, and all he can do is hold him tightly. Armin's sniffling again, face wet, and Jean keeps trying to chase the tears away, wraps his arms around his waist and presses their bodies together as closely as possible. He desperately needs to be closer, longs to hear a heart beating against his to remind him that yes, Armin's still there, but for now, soft lips and shaking fingers that grasp and clutch and beg are enough.

He wishes he was enough to make the tears disappear.

-

When they wake up in the morning, they're tangled on the couch and Jean's got a stiff back from sleeping in a funny angle, but there's a thick blanket thrown across their bodies. Armin's roommate, a dark-haired boy with bright green eyes, is cooking breakfast in the kitchen, the sun is creeping in through the blinds, and yesterday's nightmares seem so far away. The blond murmurs something incomprehensible before burrowing deeper into the covers, his hands seeking out Jean's, and they share a quick kiss before the roommate calls them over for fried eggs and sausages.

 


	6. our days go one by one

"So," the roommate begins, tapping his knife against his plate ominously and Jean swallows. Armin has claimed his lap as his seat, unusually clingy this morning, and is happily eating his eggs while the brunette attempts to maneuver around him without spilling ketchup all over him. "You're Jean."

"I'm Jean," he parrots, shushing Armin’s giggles by pressing a piece of toast into his mouth. The blond chews obediently. "And I take it you're Eren."

Eren just scowls, violently cutting a sausage in half before launching into a half-hour interrogation and Jean answers questions about his hobbies, his exes, his (nonexistent) criminal record, and his plans for the future. Finally, Armin finishes his food and sets down his utensils, sighing loudly. “Eren, stop badgering my boyfriend. It’s rude.”

Boyfriend has a nice ring to it, Jean thinks, unable to stop the grin that spreads from ear to ear and Eren looks positively homicidal when Armin pulls him into the bathroom. All they do is brush their teeth, but Eren doesn't need to know that, Jean thinks as he nibbles Armin's neck, coaxing some loud moans from the blond, and he smirks when he hears pounding on the door.

"Leave us alone, Eren," Armin growls, wrapping his arms posessively around Jean. "I'm an adult now."

Jean just snorts as Eren yells profanities from the other side.

-

The end of September is as ruthlessly hot as August and Jean sighs with relief when October finally rolls around, bringing with it cooler temperatures and Halloween decorations. He sips gingerly at a pumpkin spice latte as Marco plans their annual Halloween film party. I just don’t see why we have to do this every year.”

“Just because you’re a coward doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy some nice cinematography. It's a tradition,” Marco sniffs disdainfully, chewing on some candy corn. “Do you think we should watch The Ring again?”

Jean shivers at the mere thought. “No. How about watching some Scooby-Doo?”

His friend just laughs, adding The Ring to the list of movies to rent. “Come on, it’s not that bad! You can invite Armin and win him over with how manly you are.”

Jean shows off his manliness by leaping into the small blond’s lap when lighting suddenly strikes in the middle of the movie, yelping loudly. Armin shrieks, flinging the bowl of popcorn into the air before dissolving into a fit hysterical laughter when he gathers his wits. Marco looks like he’s having trouble breathing as he pauses the movie, clutching at his stomach with tears in his eyes and Jean vows to get revenge one way or another.

-

They quickly fall into a comfortable routine of takeout dinners and good morning texts, juggling midterms, papers and life itself. Eren still hasn't taken to him but Jean isn't too worried, not when Armin snuggles up to him with a box of fried rice in one hand and a bottle of sparkling cider in the other.

"Wow, feeling fancy tonight?" Jean jokes, taking one of the offered champagne flutes and the other just shrugs, popping off the cork. They clink their glasses together, quickly downing the cider before turning to the food at hand. Armin spoons rice into Jean's mouth, complete with airplane noises and all, and Eren just groans as he leaves the room, slamming his door loudly.

"Good," Armin laughs, pouring himself another glass and sipping at the juice delicately. "Now we're alone."

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" He looks at him with an expression akin to wonder and kisses him lightly on the nose. They talk in low murmurs, hands wandering, and somehow wind up on the floor with Armin's shirt unbuttoned and hair tangled. Armin licks his lips, slowly running his hands up underneath Jean's shirt.

"We should probably do this somewhere else," he whispers, eyes bright, and Jean just nods as he's pulled off the ground and into a small, tidy bedroom when his phone suddenly rings, loud and shrill. Jean groans when he sees the caller ID but he picks up, whispering a hushed apology to Armin, whose eyes widen when the brunette begins to fire off rapid French.

"Qui, maman, I know," he groans, finally hanging up and Armin giggles as he presses kisses to his cheeks.

"I didn't know you spoke French!"

"Just to my mom. My dad's side is pure German, but she's spoken to me in French since I was a kid. Doesn't want me to forget, I guess, and my grandparents refuse to speak to me in anything else even though we all know they speak fluent English and about a dozen other languages."

"Say something!"

" _Croissant_ ," Jean breathes into his ear, accent and all, and Armin can't stop laughing.

"That's sexy," Armin grins, sitting back, resting against the foot of his bed, and Jean loves the way he looks in that moment, under the dull light of a desk lamp, lips still red and wet, and it's perfect.

-

"Camping?" Jean looks at Marco with a puzzled expression and his friend just smiles innocently, holding out a brochure like a salesman.

"It would be fun, don’t you think? Rent a cabin with some friends and tough the wilderness for a few days."

"Tough the - Marco, it’s the middle of November. It’s snowing. We’re all going to die of frostbite."

"Come on, don’t be such a downer. I’m sure the cabin will have a heater! This is an authentic way to spend our Thanksgiving. Plus, you can bring Armin!"

Jean grumbles but Marco looks so hopeful and happy that he ends up relenting, making a mental note to call Armin to gripe about it later. Marco isn’t one to make requests so when he does, it’s hard to turn him down. With a groan, he heads into his room to start packing. He tosses a few rolls of socks and a jacket into his duffel bag and flops back onto his bed to text Armin. Unfortunately, Armin thinks camping is a great idea. The blond shows up on their doorstep at 6:30 in the morning sharp on Monday, before the sun even rises, and chatters cheerfully with Marco as they make breakfast while Jean snores over the kitchen counter. There’s oatmeal, yogurt and fruit, then a sweaty boy named Bertholdt and his equally tall boyfriend Reiner join them. They're Marco's friends from work and Jean's only met them a few times before, although he can't shake the feeling he knows them from somewhere and Bertholdt shivers when he notices the stare Jean is aiming at him.

"Connie is going to meet us at the campsite," Marco says, excitedly pouring out travel cups of coffee like a seasoned barista, adding cream and sugar when needed. "And I think Eren is coming tomorrow night."

"Eren?" Jean repeats, dumbfounded with a piece of bagel in his mouth.

"Your _boyfriend’s r_ oommate and best friend," Marco sighs, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. "It wouldn’t hurt to get along with him."

"But…"

"No buts!" Armin chirps as he worms his way onto Jean’s lap, giggling as he tangles their limbs together. "You and Eren are going to be best of friends by the end of this trip!"

"That’s what I was afraid of," Jean says quietly to himself, a forlorn look on his face as he watches the others load up the cars, buzzing with excitement that he doesn't feel. "It’s going to be a long week."

-

They finally arrive after a few grueling hours stuck in holiday traffic and listening to Reiner and Marco sing along to Grease. He's stuck in the back, sandwiched between Armin and Bertholdt, both of whom are sleeping on his shoulders, and he can barely move. The cabin is actually really nice, with a large fireplace and bunk beds upstairs. Armin and Marco squeal excitedly over everything as they scurry around like squirrels, admiring the paintings hanging from the wall, touching the shiny new stove and chasing each other up and down the stairs.

"You two are like children," Jean groans as he and Reiner are stuck with unloading the cars, carting in what looks like supplies to last them a good month or two. He throws the food into the fridge randomly, a bag of sausages here, some carrots there, and pauses to grab a can of soda.

"Come on, lighten up! They're having fun," Reiner laughs, easily heaving two large, heavy cooler boxes into the kitchen before heading out for the rest, calling over his shoulder. "This is supposed to be a vacation."

Bertholdt nods nervously from behind his boyfriend with an armful of bread and Jean just shrugs before Armin comes barreling down the stairs, sliding through the hall on his socks, and crashes into him splendidly.

"It's great upstairs! You'll love it!" He babbles, scrambling to get up. "You can see mountains and there's this porch outside with the cutest birdhouse! Let's go make a snowman before making dinner. It's not supposed to snow until tomorrow night, so we can even go hiking!"

"Hiking?"

"It's nice to experience the great outdoors, isn't it?" Marco adds, jabbing his friend in the stomach before he can say anything to bring down Armin's mood. "It's great."

"Yeah. It's great," Jean grinds out through clenched teeth, glaring at Marco before wrapping an arm around Armin's waist and pulling him aside. "Come on. Let's go bring in the luggage."

"You just wanted to get me alone in the bedroom," Armin giggles as he's pushed onto a bottom bunk large enough for two, and even though the mattress is softer, it feels nostalgic when he holds Armin from behind, pressing his face into his hair and inhaling deeply. The duffel bags and suitcases are still piled haphazardly in the doorway but they can wait. The noises from downstairs fade as he listens to Armin tell him about mountain ecology, fir trees and snowstorms, his voice as soothing as a lullaby. "Jean?"

He murmurs something sleepily into Armin's neck before the other turns around so they can face each other, noses bumping. Armin looks even more beautiful up close, he thinks, and maybe it's all the fresh air getting to his head. He gulps and closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Is it too soon to tell you that I think I love you?"

There's a terrifying pause before he feels small hands wrap around his waist like an anchor and he cracks his eyes open tentatively. Armin is smiling at him with a soft, tender expression he thinks he's seen before, and he kisses him deeply before replying breathlessly. "No. Because I think I love you too."

Jean lets out a relieved laugh, holding him as tightly as possible as he hears footsteps leaping up the stairs and a familiar voice rings out - "What are you two doing?!"

-

He remembers lying awake at night with a small hand clutched in his, bundled up in rough blankets and huddled close together for warmth. It's a little different now, with a space heater and cozy sleeping bags, but the body that fits perfectly against his is still the same, and he falls asleep easily.


	7. he said he loves me

"Armin?" The blond groans loudly, shifting in his sleep, and Jean laughs softly to himself. Somewhere in the distance, the morning bells are ringing and their shrill song is enough to give him a headache. It’s enough to wake up at the crack of dawn without the extra racket, he thinks as he nudges Armin. They’ve been late for the past week and if they get another tally, it’ll be extra clean up duty for the next month. "Armin, wake up."

 

"S'too early, Jean," he whimpers, scrunching up his eyes as he burrows further into the rough blankets, curling himself up into a ball. "Go 'way."

 

"Come on, it's time for breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?" Jean coos, pulling back the covers and pressing light kisses against his face. The sun has barely peeked over the horizon, sneaking its way in through a crack in the curtains. "Marco said there might be pancakes today."

 

“Pancakes?” Armin slowly opens one eye, hopeful, and Jean laughs, working a hand into his hair, dragging him up for a slow, languid kiss. There's still time for a little cuddling before they're called down and Armin makes soft, sleepy noises as he closes his eyes, eyelashes brushing against Jean's skin. He crawls onto the bed, admiring the way Armin’s body fits perfectly against his, breaking off the kiss gently.

 

"Now that's better, isn't it?" He murmurs, smiling against Armin's lips, and then someone's calling his name, shaking his shoulder insistently, and he opens his eyes. It's barely light out and Jean can just make out the fuzzy shape before him before Armin plops himself firmly on top of him, yelling excitedly.

 

"Wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

 

"Armin? What?" He's still groggy, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to get up. "What time is it?"

 

"I don't know, maybe 6 or 7?" Armin is way too chipper for this early in the morning and when he leans close, Jean can smell coffee beans and something sweet as Armin kisses his cheeks sloppily. "Marco and Reiner are making pancakes downstairs! There's coffee too. Hurry, before they eat it all!"

 

"Assholes," he mutters fondly as he allows himself to be pulled out of his sleeping bag. "I just had the weirdest dream. I dreamt I was waking you up, maybe we were in some weird military cabin, and then..."

 

Armin just laughs, tangling their fingers together as he makes a beeline for the kitchen, and Jean gags when he spies the figure seated by Bertholdt, wolfing down food like a starving man. They exchange sharp glares as way of greeting and Armin rolls his eyes, stealing a piece of bacon off of his plate, chewing it noisily. "Hey Eren. When'd you get here? And oh, that's good. Reiner's surprisingly a good cook."

 

"What do you mean surprisingly?! I'm a great cook. Tell them, Bert! Tell them!"

 

"H-He's a great cook," Bertholdt stammers, quickly returning to his breakfast as soon as the words leave his mouth, ignoring the group pointedly. Reiner just grins widely, slapping him on the back affectionately. 

 

-

 

The day's plans include a hike before lunch, followed by another hike and maybe some snowmen making, and then another hike. Jean stares at the paper with a critical eye. "Three hikes?!"

 

"Don't be a wuss," Marco laughs as Armin links arms with him, brandishing a trail map like a pirate's sword. "Being active is part of a healthy lifestyle."

 

"A healthy lifestyle is one I don't want or need," Jean moans as he grabs his boyfriend back, nuzzling his neck sadly. "Armin, Armin baby, do you think I'm fat? Do I need to exercise more?"

 

"Well, exercise is good for you! Come on, it's beautiful outside! Marco and I took a look around this morning while you were still sleeping," Armin shrugs, pulling Jean and an equally reluctant Eren to the hallway where he proceeds to stuff hats and gloves on them. "Now, bundle up! It's cold. Like, really cold."

 

The cold hits him like a sledgehammer when he steps out the door and he buries his face into his scarf, inhaling its musty scent deeply as he shivers. Marco and Armin push past him with more vigor than any sane person should have this early in the morning, whooping loudly as they throw armfuls of snow in the air. He trudges toward them slowly, reluctant to leave the cabin and its warmth behind. Armin yells at him to hurry up and he stumbles forward, knocking his head against Armin’s. "Keep me warm."

 

-

 

The great outdoors are decidedly not so great after a few hours in the biting cold and for once, Jean and Eren are in agreement that they should head back to the cabin. Spending the rest of the day in front of the fireplace with a mug or two of steaming hot cocoa sounds better than a million dollars at the moment, and Jean tugs at Armin's sleeve insistently, whining.

 

"My balls are freezing off," Eren moans, shivering dramatically and Armin rolls his eyes, exchanging a look with Marco. He mouths the word 'wimps' and Marco laughs. Jean pretends not to notice; he's not going to start an argument if they can go back.

 

"Well, I guess we could head back for lunch," Marco shrugs, starting the descent and he's never looked more like an angel before.

 

-

 

Jean pulls Armin aside as they're cleaning up after the meal, beckoning him outside onto the porch. "What's up?" Armin asks, burying his face in his scarf and inserting one of his hands into Jean's pocket, winding their fingers together. Jean looks at him, inhales deeply, and squeezes his hand. "Jean?"

 

"Hey, uh, I was just wondering..."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Do you want to come over for Christmas? I mean like, meet the parents and everything. I want to introduce you to my family. And stuff."

 

Armin's quiet for a moment and Jean's afraid he's said the wrong thing, but then Armin nods, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

 

"Great," Jean breathes, pulling him in for a hug. "Great. We can drive up or take a train, and I'll let my mom know so she'll get ready. We can stay in my room. My bed's big enough for two, or at least, it should be, and my parents are just going to love you." He's rambling, he knows he is, but he can't stop himself and Armin doesn't seem to mind, laughing as he kisses his chin affectionately. "Is there anything in particular you want to eat? My mom's an amazing cook."

 

"Anything is good," Armin murmurs, smiling. "Whatever you like."

 

-

 

The next morning, Jean is surprised to wake up on his own. As he sits up, he notes that the room is empty and the faint sounds of breakfast being made drifts up from downstairs. He's a little miffed that Armin didn't wake him, but as he slings his legs over the side of the bunk, a loud groan startles him and he looks over to find that one bed is in fact still occupied.

 

"I _hate_ winter," Armin sniffs miserably, burrowing into a pile of blankets and sleeping bags, and Jean chuckles fondly as he makes his way over. "I hate the snow. I hate the outdoors. I have everything."

 

"You should have gone in once you were cold. You and Marco went crazy yesterday."

 

"I wanted to watch the sunset," he wails, rolling into a ball and screwing up his face. "It didn't seem that cold at the time. I thought I'd be okay after a good night's sleep."

 

Jean just sighs, pulling the covers more securely around shivering shoulders, resting his hand against Armin's forehead. He's burning up, probably a combination of the thousand and one hikes they'd taken yesterday and the snow angels they'd run out to make after dinner. "Try and rest up, alright? You want any anything to eat?"

 

" _No_." Armin whimpers before breaking out into a series of hacking coughs, body shaking violently, and Jean hands him a box of tissues. "Ugh, just kill me now. I feel terrible."

 

"You'll get better soon, alright? Now sleep. You don't want to miss out on Thanksgiving turkey, right? I'm going to make you some tea. I'll bring it up to you." Jean leans down to brush his lips across Armin's cheek despite his weak protest, and gets up. Behind him, Armin murmurs a soft thank you, and an even softer I love you.

 

Jean's heart is racing by the time he makes it into the kitchen and his cheeks are slightly flushed. He ignores Marco’s concerned look as he pours hot water into a chipped mug and adds a tea bag, mind still elsewhere. He loves me, he thinks, grinning to himself. He _loves_ me.


End file.
